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nightashes · 4 years ago

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The Alliance Sucks, the Rebellion’s Not Much Better, but at Least We Have Each Other

A/N: Yes. I know it’s a crazy long title. Fight me. Shortened title: At Least We Have Each Other. Longer title: the alliance sucks, the rebellion’s not much better, but at least we have each other (and some guns). This is a discord gift for @sometimes-love-is-enough. I hope you enjoy! This is the longest one-shot I have written so far! woot woot!

Summary: Being a criminal in space is difficult. Being a criminal in space that just pulled a job on a government facility is worse. Being a criminal in space that just pulled a job on a government facility and somehow picked up a stowaway is a recipe for disaster. Luckily this crew specializes in disasters.

Meet the Crew:

Janus: the Captain. He can demand respect and obedience with nothing more than a glare.

Virgil: the pilot and emergency medic.. He’s no doctor but he’s gotten the crew through a fair amount of scrapes.

Roman: the second-in-command. He helps Virgil out in navigation and generally makes sure the ship runs smoothly and is always fully stocked with everything they could possibly need.

Remus: he’s the muscle and he makes sure the ship never remains stocked.

And of course Patton: the engineer. Without him this ship would be nothing more than a crappy piece of modern art.

Warnings: an assortment of weapons, a kid with a gun, blood, violence, explosions, almost major character death

writing masterlist - ao3 version

***

The thrum of the engine was a constant backdrop. It was the hiss of a living breathing machine. More than a sound, the vibrations were a blanket laid over them, an understanding of protection. The engine was awake and they were finally on the move. As long as they were moving, they were safe. Janus walked along the corridor, his gloved hand passing over the metal walls, feeling the buzz of the engine beneath his fingertips. He quirked a smile.

In the distance he could hear the shouts of his crew, arguing passionately. It seemed there was always something to argue about with them and Janus hardly did much to prevent it. If it went too far, he would step in and knock some sense into them. But in the end, this is just how they were. They resolved everything with a passionate debate. Everything .

The door to his room slid open at the touch of his hand. He swept off his overcoat and settled heavily onto his bed. It had not been an easy job. They would have to lie low for a while. Stealing from the Alliance was like that. Nothing but trouble. But at least they would get paid. And any chance to stick it to those government lackeys was a welcome one as far as he was concerned. For now all he wanted to do was sleep. Kicking off his boots and sliding out of his suspenders, Janus collapsed back onto his pillow.

“Dim the lights, Serenity.” He mumbled to the ship’s AI, already drifting off to sleep.

Bang!

“Janus! They won’t let me-”

“Janus! You can’t let Remus hurt-”

“Janus! We need your help. There’s-”

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Janus yanked open the door.

Glaring down at his crew, even with his ruffled hair and wrinkled shirt he cut an intimidating figure. His eyes bored into their souls, shutting down any ideas of speaking out of turn.

“One at a time you will explain to me what is wrong in as few words as possible. Virgil, you first.”

“Roman found a stowaway. He’s with him now.”

“A stowaway. Fantastic. Just what we needed.” The captain spat. “Remus?”

“Obviously, we should just toss the little squirt out into space. But no one here will let me.”

Janus turned to the last one there. “And I suppose that’s why you’re upset, Patton?”

“He’s just a kid.” The empathetic engineer practically pleaded.

“Where is he?”

“Storage. Roman found him while securing the prototype.” Virgil explained.

“So the kid’s seen what we have. More wonderful news .” He drew his hand down his face with a sigh. “Alright, you three stay here. I’ll go figure this out.”

***

Roman was sitting on the floor, his katana had been drawn and set aside behind him. He was talking in a low voice to the kid. Across from him, the stowaway sat with his back ramrod straight as his fingers played with the laces of his shoe. The kid was nervous but trying his best to hide it. Whatever Roman was saying the kid wasn’t responding.

Janus rapped the wall with his knuckles. The kid whipped his head around to face him. There was an intelligence in those eyes. He stared with a calculating gaze that was unusual for one so young. He was dressed smartly, wearing pressed slacks and a vest, obviously a child of wealth. Now what would lead a kid of status to stowaway on a ship of thieves?

“Ah, Captain. Good thing you're here. He won’t speak to anyone but you.” Roman spoke, trying his best to keep his voice calm and even, an usual occurrence for the boisterous first mate.

“You’re the captain?” The child asked, unimpressed.

“No, I’m the cook. Everyone calls me Captain because if they don’t I’ll spit in their food.” Janus whispered conspiratorially.

The kid squinted his eyes in suspicion and confusion. “You are being dishonest.”

A stowaway that didn’t understand sarcasm, this would certainly be interesting. “You’re right. I am being dishonest. You’ve figured it out, I am the captain. And now I need you to answer my questions. Can you tell me why you’ve decided to stowaway on my ship?”

The kid looked between the two of them, he tried to speak with confidence but there was a spark of fear hidden within his eyes. Janus wondered if Roman could see it too.

“I want to join you.” The kid spoke simply.

Roman raised his brow and Janus could not hold back a chuckle. The kid tightened his fists, preparing himself for a debate. “I’m smart. I can solve problems and help map out battle plans better than anyone in my class.”

“I’m sure you can, kid,” Janus shook his head incredulously. “But you see we don’t really have any need for a battle tactician. And as for plans and problems, no one can beat my second-in-command here.” Janus clapped his hand around Roman’s shoulder.

“It’s true. If he brought you on, I might grow jealous.” Roman smirked.

“Well, then I could join another ship. One that needs me.” The kid refused to be persuaded.

The captain sighed. Alright, the straight-forward approach. “Look, you aren’t joining a ship of smugglers and thieves. We won’t take you and there is no way I’m letting you join any other ship. You’d be killed in a month. Why don’t you tell me where your home is and we can drop you off?”

“Smugglers? I thought-” The kid’s fear was unmistakable now. “I may have made a miscalculation.”

“Did you now?”

“You’re not with the rebellion?”

“Most definitely not.”

“You attacked the Northern Outpost on Galiero. Why would you do that if you are not with the rebellion?”

“Ah, see… we can’t really tell you about that. But-”

The kid was not listening, scanning the room he pointed to the prototype, cutting Janus off, “It’s because of that. Isn’t it?’

The prototype sat beside a smuggling hold. It was a large piece of machinery, all sharp edges and mysterious buttons, waiting patiently to be hidden snuggly away, the same hold that the kid must have found and stowed away in. They would need to reevaluate their hidden compartments if a kid could find them.

The kid continued, “If you’re smugglers, then you can take me to the rebels. I can pay you.”

“We’re not taking you to any rebels,” Roman asserted. “We’re taking you home. To your family.”

“My family is gone.” The kid spat out venomously. “It was just my dad and I. And then the Alliance took him away. They said his books were spreading ‘treasonist ideologies.’ They took him away and forced me into a new family. I’m not going back there. I’m joining the rebellion and I’m going to destroy the Alliance.”

There was a pause of silence. Janus and Roman gave each other a meaningful look. “Alright, we won’t take you home,” Janus finally proclaimed. “Roman, why don’t you take the kid here and find him something to eat?”

“Sure thing, Cap.”

“Will you take me to the rebellion?” The kid questioned, refusing to leave without a confirmation.

“Of course, kid.” At that moment, Janus was thankful that the kid couldn’t understand sarcasm.

“It’s Logan. Logan Sanders.” Their stowaway clarified as he allowed himself to be led away.

The captain sighed heavily. He needed to speak with his pilot.

***

“You want to what?” Virgil nearly yelled.

“I want to rescue the boy’s father from the Alliance prisons.”

“You’re insane! You’ve lost it! The Captain’s lost it and we are all going to die!”

“Virgil, calm down. We can do it, as long as we play it smart.”

“No!” Virgil shook his head. “No, there is no ‘playing this smart.’ We are running hot right now. We have a stolen prototype in our storage that the Alliance would happily kill us to regain and now we have a kid on board to worry about! Going anywhere near Alliance space right now is suicide. We need to be heading to the outer planets as fast as our jets can carry us.”

“I know. But we aren’t. Logan needs his father. Or would you rather we hand him over to the rebellion so they can use him as cannon fodder?”

Virgil hissed out a curse. “You can’t do that. You can’t just do that. Guilting me into this madness...” He muttered as he began angrily punching in codes into the panel.

“Thank you, Virgil.”

“If we die, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I know.” Janus answers.

The pilot sighed as the computer beeped back at him. “Remy thinks he can figure out where the kid’s father would have been taken. Last name Sanders, right? We can start heading to the center planets now while he does his thing. It’ll take a couple days, we’ll need to go through the Mirdian belt if we want to avoid detection. By the time we arrive, Remy should have all the info we need to get ourselves killed on a rescue mission.”

“ Perfect. I’ll let the others know.”

***

The kid was pacing. The kid was pacing a lot and it was driving Remus up the wall. Back and forth. Back and forth, the kid walked. Glancing this way and that and generally being a distracting nuisance. Remus was sitting at the table, attempting to clean one of his guns in peace. He loved to tinker with his weapons in the kitchen. Best way to work and devour snacks all at once. Patton hated it of course. But Patton was busy helping Virgil. Something about making sure their approach to the planet didn’t trip off any sensors. All Remus knew was that he was supposed to have the kitchen to himself to prepare for the mission. But now there was a kid here. A kid he was not allowed to eject into space. Which Remus considered a travesty. At least the kid being here meant they were going to break into a prison! Remus has always wanted to break into a prison, ever since he and Roman had run away from home looking for adventure. And now he had his chance. He was ready to go. His skin was buzzing in excitement and he was making sure all of his precious babies were loaded and ready for a fight. But his perfect happy bubble was being ruined by pacing.

“Would you just sit down already!” Remus hollowered at the kid. Logan glanced his way unimpressed and continued to pace.

Remus grumbled in distaste. The kid was suspicious of them, Remus knew it. He may not be able to read body language like Janus, but the kid was definitely suspicious. Remus wasn’t sure how or when but sometime during their trip Logan had figured out they were heading the wrong way to meet up with the rebellion. And now he was pacing. Janus didn’t want them to tell Logan their plans. Something about getting his hopes up. Whatever the reason, it was complete bull. And Remus would know. He specialized in bullcrap.

The kid was pacing. Pacing and planning. An unpredictable plan from an unknown variable meant chaos. Remus liked chaos. But he also liked his friends. And a plan like that, on a mission like this, could get his friends killed.

“Hey kid, you want to know a secret?”

Logan stared back at Remus, silently… waiting.

“We aren’t heading towards the rebellion.” Remus grinned deviously.

There was a pause. Logan searched Remus’s face, looking for who knows what. “You’re taking me to the Alliance. You’re turning me in for clemency. Aren’t you?”

“Hah!” Remus barked out a laugh. “Turning you in for clemency? Hell no! We may not be with the rebellion but our hate for the Alliance runs just as deep.”

“Then why aren’t you with them? Why not help them fight?” Logan’s curiosity was struck.

“Because the rebellion is totally insane! And not in the fun way if you know what I mean?” Logan gave him a look that told Remus he, in fact, did not know what he meant. Remus continued, “They’re one of those defeat-the-evil-empire-by-any-means-necessary types. They believe in their own bullcrap. Trust me, kid, you don’t want to work for them.”

“What are you going to do with me then?” Logan pressed.

“We’re going to do something insane. And I do mean insane in the fun way.” Remus winked conspiratorially.

“That does nothing to reassure me.” Logan deadpanned, which caused Remus to let loose a big belly laugh. The sound bouncing around the kitchen.

“You’re alright, kid,” wiping away a tear of mirth, Remus chuckled. “Hey, come over here.” he gestured towards the table, where an assortment of his weapons had been laid out. “We’re going to be leaving in a minute to have our fun. It’ll just be you and Patton on the ship while we’re out. Nothing should happen, but just in case why don’t you take Linda here.” He shoved a small laser gun into the kid’s hands. “She’ll take care of you if any of the insanity comes this way, Alright?”

Logan stared down at the gun in his hands. His brow knitted together in confusion, but when he looked up there was gratitude in his eyes. He nodded his understanding.

A cough came from the doorway. Remus looked up to find the Captain standing in the entrance, looking with fondness at the scene in front of him. “Well, I hope I’m not interrupting. Just thought I’d let you know we’ll be touching down now.” Janus explained, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Remus, meet me in the hold once you’ve finished. Patton will be here in a minute to take care of the kid. Said something about making you guys a hot sugary drink. That should be fun, right kid?”

Logan stared back at the Captain. His fingers feeling the weight of the weapon in his hands. He positioned himself and raised the gun, aiming it directly at the Captain’s face. His eyes were cold and his hands barely shook. “If you betray me I’ll shoot you.”

Remus smiled mischievously as Janus shot him a look of disbelief, “What did you teach him?”

“Nothing, Cap. This is all him! The kid’s a natural.”

Janus wisely decided to drop it at that. “Just pack up your things and meet me down there.”

“Righty-o, Boss Man!” Remus waved to Janus’s departing back before turning back to his new friend. “Alright, we won’t be seeing each other until nightfall. But don’t you worry, nothing’s gonna harm you. You're under my protection now, like a little chaos apprentice.” He gave a big toothy grin. “And when I have your back nothing bad will ever happen to you. Got it?”

The kid grips the weapon in his hands. “You won’t tell me what you are doing?”

“Nah, Cap wants to keep it a surprise. But trust me, you’ll love it!”

“Alright, I trust you.”

***

It was dusty, so very dusty. The wind blew it everywhere. Beneath the scarves wrapped around their faces. Crusting over the glass of their goggles. And filling their boots, as they dragged their feet further and further through the dunes. Virgil shouldered his pack higher, trying his best to adjust whatever was poking harshly into his back. The pack was heavy, filled to the brim with ammo for whatever Remus had brought along. The pack pulled his weight deeper into the sand with each and every step. They had landed several klicks away from the prison, better to go undetected until they were ready for a fight. But this meant a hike. A hike carrying bulging packs full of everything they will need for the mission ahead.

The sun was clouded. Obscured by the grit blowing around them. But the heat was real. Virgil could feel the sweat beading down his back. Drops pooled around his hairline, dripping into his scarf. Virgil desperately ached to wipe them away. But he knew it would only make the situation worse, covered as his hands were with dust.

As evening neared, they finally arrived within striking distance of the prison. They settled down to wait. Munching on protein packs and chugging water from their skins. Janus passed around an old communicator. A flashing mugshot hovered there from all to see.

Their Captain crouched down beside them, speaking as clearly and precisely as he could. “Thomas Sanders. Civilian. Divorced. Father of one and author of the banned book: The Lost Art of Community . He was arrested half a lunar cycle ago for perpetuating treasonist ideologies. Remy has provided us with a map of the building and yard. The asset will be held within solitary confinement.”

Virgil swiped through the communicator. Seeing the images zoom pass, sure enough a map popped up. An area colored yellow, stood out from the rest: solitary confinement. Virgil mumbled to himself, repeating what he saw, forcing the images into his memory.

“We’ll be doing a Surprise Secret,” Janus continued. “Remus and Roman, you’ll cover the Surprise. Virgil and I will take care of the Secret. Understood?”

Words of confirmation echoed out.

“Alright, begin your preparations. At dusk, we strike.”

***

The sky was beginning to darken. The signal would come any minute now. Virgil thought to himself as he lay on his stomach, he shifted to ensure the katana did not dig into his stomach. Roman had been kind enough to lend it for their mission. Virgil scanned the prison through his binoculars. He couldn’t see the twins, there happened to be a building in the way, but he knew they were there. On the other side, readying their surprise. It had to be soon. Any minute now. Virgil shifted nervously.

Janus laid a hand on his shoulder, “Virgil, it’ll be okay. We’ve done this before. Only difference is: now the asset is a person. We’ve got this.”

Virgil sighed heavily, “There’s a lot more different than that. It’s-”

BOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Time to go. They shot to their feet, sprinting towards the prison. The firefight had begun.

***

Remus was having the time of his life. Guards were pouring out of the front of the building, firing frantically at their position. But Roman and Remus were smuggly secured in a foxhole they had prepared for this very reason. They let loose a torrent of fire upon the building. Doing their best to be as loud as possible. Truly, this was the best job of their life. And all they had to do now was draw as much attention as possible, while not getting killed. Easy peasy.

Roman yelled, “Reload!” Beside him. Ducking down to grab ammunition from one of the packs that lay open in their hole.

Remus screamed as he laid down cover fire. “Eat lasers, ya little piggies!!”

A shot whizzed past his ear. Remus ducked his head a little lower. Whoa! That was close. His eyes were wide and his smile couldn’t possibly grow wider. This was living the dream. Roman patted his shoulder signaling he was ready. And together they rose again. Firing an array of blazing lasers down at the swarming guards streaming from the compound beneath them.

***

Virgil and Janus had made it onto the roof. No one had noticed them yet. Roman and Remus were truly doing a fantastic job of drawing everyone’s attention. Still, Virgil couldn’t help but worry. His gut twisted at the thought that his two crewmates were fighting against an entire prison worth of guards with nothing but their position, their weapons, and their skill to protect them.

He had long since abandoned the religion of his home planet. But as he skittered the edges of the cell block, seeing the lights of the lasers paint the horizon like a violent sunset. For the first time in years he felt the urge to wish. To wish that the great being of fate that pulled on the strings of the universe, fighting for the balance of destruction and creation, really was real. Somewhere outside of their dimension, pulling on the strings and maybe just maybe, ensuring that they would make it out okay. That the balance fell on their side today.

Virgil ran low across the roof, Janus followed closely behind in his footsteps. They glided across the blacktop, weaving between obstacles and doing their best to hide whenever possible. Against the darkened sky, they were but a pair of dancing shadows. While the front of the building was lit up in an array of lights and screams, a display of dazzling laser fire. On the roof, all was silent and dark.

He whispered to himself, repeating the layout of the map. East, a little further. They were close. So very close. Roman and Remus just had to hold on a little bit longer. Janus whipped out a thermal reader, readying himself. They had arrived at the section for solitary confinement.

The thermal reader lit up softly, Janus shifted his coat to hide the light as best as he could. Moving right and left, he worked his way across the roof. Virgil had brought out his own, starting at the other end of the section, he crouched low over the screen, he appeared as a hovering figure, coasting his way over the building, moving eerily similar to a predator. A beast-like crouch reminiscent of the predators of Loskor searching the ground for hidden Storles’s burrows.

A call broke his concentration. Janus gestured him over. Sure, enough his screen was filled with the image of red. A humanoid figure pacing in the cell below. Virgil pulled out Roman’s katana. At the push of a button, the blade pulsed red. He steadied his stance, holding the blade firmly in his fist, Virgil pushed it down into the blacktop of the roof. The blade hissed, sparks flew, spitting gravel into the air. Virgil pushed further, fighting against the force. On Janus’s screen, the figure was stock-still and squirreled away into a corner, the body stared up at the ceiling, watching their progress. Virgil pulled the blade across. Slowly, he moved around, forming the rough shape of a rounded box. He removed the katana and extinguished the fire. Now, came the tricky part. Thankfully, the figure appeared content to stay in the corner.

Virgil kicked down forcibly onto the weakened rooftop. The cut-out shape moved an inch inward, creating a large person-sized depression in the otherwise smooth surface. Sturdy sucker. Virgil kicked again.

The chunk of rooftop collapsed into the cell below, spraying chunks of rock across the frightened prison. He stared up at them through the hole. Through the dust and dirt, Virgil could make out the face of their target, Thomas Sanders.

“Your son, Logan, is waiting for you,” Janus caught the attention of the prisoner. “Ready to go?”

“My son?” Thomas asked, dumbstruck.

Virgil lay down on the roof at the edge of the hole. Reaching down into the cell, his fingers stretching towards the prisoner. “We have to go now! Grab on.”

Thomas glanced between them, searching their faces in a similar fashion to the way Logan often would. Satisfied with what he saw, he jumped to catch Virgil’s outstretched palm. Virgil groaned under the force of a grown man hanging from his arm, but he managed to hang on. He pulled his arm up. Janus came round and offered his own hand out to the man. Once they had a hold on each of his arms, they worked together. Pulling the man up and out of the darkened prison cell. They collapsed against the rooftop, huffing.

“Time to break radio silence.” Janus spoke. Yanking a communicator from his belt, he brought it up to his lips. “The secret is done. Time for the final surprise.”

The communicator crackled noisily. The sounds of static and explosion pouring through. A voice broke through the noise. “Final surprise incoming. Brace for impact.”

Virgil jumped to his feet, pulling the prison to standing position. “There’s going to be a big blast. When it happens we’ve got to run to the edge of the roof as fast as we can. You understand?”

The prisoner nodded his head, frantically. Clearly, this man was out of his depths. But he seemed focused and ready to listen. And right now, that’s all they needed.

The building shook violently. The front of the prison crumbled inward slightly as a bright ball of light stung their eyes.

“To the front! Now!” Janus yelled.

The trio ran.

***

The firefight was really starting to get exciting, Remus thought. Their foxhole was taking heavy damage and their ammunition was beginning to run low. They had to wrap this up soon if they wanted to get off this hellhole-of-a-planet unscathed. Although getting a little scathed was alright in Remus’s opinion. One can never have too many battle scars, afterall. In truth, Remus never really feared injury, not for himself at least. If the personification of death came strolling up to Remus one day, he’d probably greet him to a challenge of arm wrestling, just to see who was stronger, of course. Now, if death came for someone else, someone Remus cared about, that was another story. And so when the call from Janus came in, Remus was happy to say that thing’s seemed to be working out.

Remus set up the support stand as Roman answered, “Final Surprise incoming, brace for impact.”

From the last pack, the one that had laid unopened during the battle, Remus pulled out, what he affectionately called, The Final Surprise. A missile laser launcher that could fire a laser bolt big enough to put a hole through a military class transporter. This was going to be fun! He set it in place on the support stand and lined up his shot. Aiming for the front of the prison, his smile grew wider. The line of guard’s that had formed to fight off the “invasion” had no idea what was about to come their way.

Remus fired the Final Surprise. So named because in life there is only one final surprise.

The front of the building exploded in fire. The frame shook. The doors had been blasted off. Prisoners had been freed. And now the guards were fighting a battle on two fronts.

Remus began hurriedly packing up whatever supplies they would have the time to take. Roman took to laying down cover fire. As he packed, he took to watching the building attentively. Looking for the three figures that were currently sprinting across the rooftop. He spotted their silhouettes as they neared the building’s front. All three were there. They were safe.

Over the cacophony of battles cries and weapons firing, a new sound was heard. The thrum of an engine. Most importantly the thrum of the engine of their ship. It roared violently, the buzz of a thousand hornets that was felt deep in the bones. The ship tore through the air and came to hover directly behind them. The door had been lowered, open and ready for them to enter.

“Ready to board?” Roman shouted to his brother.

Remus was clutching the Final Surprise to his chest. The packs had been piled onto his shoulders, two to an arm. He felt positively giddy. They left their foxhole behind and jumped aboard. The guards that weren’t fighting prisoners had shifted to fire upon the ship. It was time to leave.

“We’re on! Move to the rooftop.” Roman radioed Patton.

The ship rose higher, coming level to the rooftop. It soared over the heads of the guard. The ship rattled as it took laser fire to its hull. The trio watched them as they flew in closer. Virgil jumped aboard first. Running in to hug the twins.

“God, we’re alive!” He cheered.

Janus and the prisoner jumped together. The captain steadying the civilian. He helped him through the door and safely inside the ship’s storage.

Everyone was here. They were safe. They had successfully completed a prison break!

The ship began to rise from the building. The door was beginning to close when Remus saw it.

The prison had launched their own ship. A prison transport. It had limited weapon capabilities. But their ship was already taking fire. They couldn’t risk it.

Remus was still holding onto the Final Surprise. There wasn’t anytime to set up the support stand. He dropped the packs and slammed his fist against the button to hold open the door. The others looked his way in shock as he squared up on the half-closed ramp. He hefted the Final Surprise against his shoulder. The transport ship came into his crosshairs. Remus fired.

There is a reason that the Final Surprise requires a support stand to fire. The recoil. The laser bolt left the launcher. It blasted through the crack in the open door. And Remus, he was thrown back. The last thing he saw before everything went black was the prisoner transport explode into a mess of shrapnel.

What a way to end a prison break.

***

The dreadful thing about having a surprise stowaway on board, is that other things fall to the wayside. Janus knew he had meant to give the order to hide away the prototype. But with planning a prisoner break, dealing with a child that was too smart for his own good, and trying their best to fly to a prison planet without being detected: They had just never gotten around to it.

Janus watched in horror as Remus was thrown across the ship’s storage and directly into the path of the prototype. His body smacked against its side. And blood pooled across his shirt. The crew rushed to his side. Janus barking orders to give him space.

Janus didn’t even know what the prototype did. He had just been hired to steal it. The customer was paying well and it was a chance to stick it to the Alliance. He had jumped at the chance. Now, he stood beside his bleeding crewmate. Someone had passed him a wad of gauze, probably Virgil. He was pressing them the best he could to the wound, working around the projectile. For Remus had been impaled upon a metal protrusion on the device.

Virgil was frantic. He had brought out the first aid kit and was doing what he could. But none of them knew what to do with a wound like this. How could they? They were smugglers, not doctors.

“Virgil, Patton needs you.” Janus stared at their frantic pilot.

Virgil wordlessly shook his head no.

“You need to fly us out of here.”

“He needs help.” Virgil argued.

“And what are you going to do here? We’ve got him. But right now, we need you to get us out of here. Patton doesn’t know how to leave a planet’s atmosphere. If you don’t pilot this ship we all die. And it will be your fault.” Janus's voice was as cold as stone. It was times like these that he knew why he had become their Captain. To be a Captain, meant at times you had to be cruel.

And the look Virgil shot him as he left. He knew he would pay for what he had said. But at least, they would survive. Janus could feel the blood pool around his hands. Well, most of them.

Roman was at his side now. He gripped his brother’s hand in his own. “Remus. Remus, wake up. You’ve got to wake up.”

“I’m sorry, Roman.” The captain spoke. “Are there any death rites on your planet?”

“No.” A shout came from behind them. Janus turned his head to see the stowaway. His arms were raised, just as had they had been this morning. The gun Remus had given him was held firmly in his hands. “You have to save him.”

“I’m sorry, kid. There’s nothing we can do.”

“YOU HAVE TO!” He shouted. His father crouched beside him. Whispering and trying to coax the weapon from his hands.

Logan shoved his father’s arms away. “The rebellion! Take him to the rebellion! They’ll save him!”

Roman lifted his head to look at the kid, “I would never take him back there. You don’t know what they’re like. When we left… when we found this ship, we promised we’d never return to them.”

“But… but… he can’t just die! He said he’d protect me!”

“There’s another way,” Thomas spoke. “The Alliance, the Rebellion. They aren’t the only people out there. There are others that can help.”

“What do you mean?” Roman asked, hope tinting his words.

“I was jailed for a book about community. Because in community is where our strength lies. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. There are others like me. Spread out throughout the universe, on every planet. If you showed me a map, I could take us to someone nearby. People that can help. People that help not because they want to use you for their own ends, but because they want to help. Because they believe in community.”

Janus looks to Roman. The twin nodded his head. Janus spoke, “Logan, could you show your father to the cockpit.”

Janus hated the Alliance. They were cruel. The rebellion wasn’t much better. But perhaps, with each other, with this community and the family that they had found on this ship, they could make it. They could survive. And maybe. Just maybe if this plan was just crazy enough to work. They could save Remus too.

Janus pressed a kiss to Remus’s forehead. “Don’t worry. We’re here for you.”

***

Remus awoke wrapped in warmth. The sounds of laughter and chattering voices drifted to his ears. He could hear his brother, his voice loud and boisterous. He was telling a story of their childhood. The time they had stolen a whole pie from the baker and eaten the entire thing in one afternoon. There was the giggle of a child. Logan? His captain spoke next, Janus making some sarcastic comment. Patton admonished the captain. He could hear the smirk in Virgil’s voice, as the pilot joined in.

Was everyone here? Had they all made it?

Remus opened his eyes. He was in bed. Not his bunk but an actual bed, in an actual bedroom. His crew sat in chairs around him. There was a beam of sunlight streaming in through a window. They weren’t on the ship. Where were they?

“Hey sleepy guy, welcome back!” Patton cooed.

His brother reached out his hand and squeezed his shoulder. “Looks like you got your wish, bro. A real-life prison break. But I’m telling you now, we are never doing that again.”

The chaotic twin grinned at his family. He looked down at his bandaged chest and then back to his loved ones, “it was totally worth it.”

Virgil looked about ready to punch him for that comment. But Logan beat him to it, slapping his arm only somewhat playfully, “You are never allowed to do something like that again. Ever again! Okay?” He commanded.

“Aw, alright... But only because there is still so much I want to teach you.”

Logan nodded his head in acknowledgement, “As long as you allow me to teach you about basic safety!”

“Oh, I like this kid.” Virgil chuckled.

And soon everyone had joined in. Sharing stories all about his lack of basic self-preservation instincts.

***

Janus watched as his crew delighted in Remus’s return to the land of the conscious. Turns out Thomas had been right, together they could survive.

taglist: @stop-it-anxiety @hexatrash @ollyollyoxinfree @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @leiasolo77 @arya-skywalker @alexxadontplaydespasito

#sanders sides #janus sanders #all the sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #kid!logan #sanders sides fic #ts fanfic #ts fanfiction #my writing

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whitelotus-ffxiv · 6 years ago

Text

.mercy

Crash!

Xiu stayed still on her knees, hands atop her thigh, as she watched the glass the oyabun had knocked off of the table shatter on the polished wooden floor. The crystal reflected the rain outside through the open door, and when the oyabun took a step, he crushed more of it beneath his heel.

Sparkly. Like diamond dust. Pretty.

“You had two jobs to do, Xiu.”

The oyabun’s voice cut through the air like a knife, calm, but she could hear all of the tension weighing on his tongue. He was angry, even if it wasn’t visible. That was the worst type of anger he could offer; the seething beneath the surface, barely contained by a smooth exterior. The chronometer on his wrist ticked as his hand hung in front of Xiu’s face, a cane made of ebony tightly gripped in his gloved hands in a way that made the leather creak when his knuckles tensed beneath it. He started to pace in front of her, deliberately, slowly, back and forth. She refused to look up.

“Repeat to me what your jobs were.”

“To locate and kill the former governor of Fushui for his acts of rebellion against the Garlean Empire, for his gathering of soldiers that served under him, and for attacking a Garlean base before fleeing.” Xiu recited it like she was reading it off of a list, still staring down at the broken glass as her own knuckles tensed slightly. Her clothing was dirty; she’d not even had time to blink before she was yanked in to the oyabun’s office. All she’d been able to do was remove her mask and let her hair tumble over her shoulders, soaked with rain.

“And tell me what part of this job you succeeded in,” the man said, ceasing his pacing and lifting his cane, making the end level with Xiu’s gaze.

“In locating the former governor, sir.”

“In locating the former governor-- and succeeding in infiltrating the place where he has been granted sanctuary by some bleeding heart Hingans. You even walked through the halls, rested in the rafters, watched him, revealed yourself to him... and the man remains alive, on the run once again.”

Finally, Xiu looked up. The oyabun was staring down at her, two of his guards flanking him at his desk standing at a parade rest. She looked at the swords on their hips, sized both of them up. Both Raen, and tall even for male Au Ra. Lean but still muscular; athletically built... She could take both of them down, no questions asked, within thirty seconds. Their stances were too tense. They were nervous. She could practically smell their fear at the thick layer of tension in the room, even if they looked, to most anyone else, as calm and as confident as could be. Even the picks of the litter weren’t good enough to match with her, to overcome what she could do to them.

Pathetic.

“Within the sanctuary were three young children. The eldest couldn’t have been more than ten -- the governor’s children, all at play when I put my blade to their father’s neck. He begged. I met eyes of the youngest. I could not bring myself to do it, oyabun,” Xiu said, flatly, looking back up to him with a challenge in her gaze. “Not right there. Not right then. It was a foolish decision to call me back.”

“Why do I waste my time and energy and resources training you? You’re afraid to kill in front of a child? You don’t want to scar them?” the oyabun sneered, leaning on his cane and putting his face close to Xiu’s. He didn’t look as old as he was, save for the scars marring his tanned complexion and the nicks in his scales that told of battles long since fought.

“Easy solution. You kill the children too. No witnesses. No emotional scarring from seeing their father die. Idiot girl. Afraid of some little ones? Look at all the blood on your hands, Xiu. Are you really afraid of a couple drops more?”

Suddenly, the cane was coming up towards her at a speed so fast that a year ago, she wouldn’t have been able to react. His words were echoing in her ears, and there was a familiar rage creeping through her veins. Her hand snapped up and grabbed the cane, and she was on her feet, twisting it behind his back and bringing her knee up into the small of it to topple him to his knees. She heard him bark an order to his guards to stay where they were, and the oyabun twisted around and got back to his feet, gripping the cane and trying to wrest it from Xiu’s grip. Their eyes met, two flames about to burst into a fire, as they both gripped the stick of ebony.

“I will not harm a child. Never. Never. I will not take away from them what you have taken away from me, father. I will let them try to have a childhood with a father that loves them. You send one of your attack dogs out if it’s so necessary that the governor dies! I am not your tool! I am not one of those attack dogs!”

“Your life will become a thousand times simpler when you realize just how wrong you are, Xiu.”

The cane was taken from her and her face was gripped in the hands of the man she called father, vice-like and vicious as he bore down upon the small Raen girl. He looked wild with rage, then, all airs of being a cool, calm, and collected leader thrown to the wind as it so often was when dealing with his personal pet project, in dealing with his prodigy.

“I own you,” he hissed down at her. “Who has raised you, kept you, fed you, trained you, given you all the pretty things a girl could want? Who has made you what you are now? You owe everything to me, little girl. Or would you prefer to die like your pathetic mother, sickly, too soft for her own good? You do as I tell you to do, or you can drop yourself on your sword. The choice is yours, Xiu.”

There was a long silence, Xiu’s face still held between gloved fingers stronger than hers. Their eyes were locked. It was a battle of wills; who would look away first? Who would break first? It felt like an eternity of waiting, with Xiu’s jaw set as she stared down the man who dared call himself her father.

“I will burn what you have made of me and be reborn from the ashes,” she said through her teeth. “And then I will come to burn you next.”

“You are welcome to try, little phoenix,” the man said with a smirk. In the end, Xiu won. He let her go, shoved her back, and turned his back to her. She considered the knife in her boot, considered stepping behind him and just snapping his neck. But every time it felt as if she might move, she saw them; the children in Hingashi, wide-eyed, innocent, as they looked at the masked woman with the dagger held to their papa’s neck.

“Go and fetch Feng,” the oyabun said to one of his men. “He’s someone who can do a job properly without whining about morality. You could learn from the stories of his work, Xiu. Leave your mind and your heart at the door. Better yet, get rid of the latter completely. It’ll do you no good here. Get out. Go clean yourself up. Your punishment isn’t over yet.”

The water wasn’t hot enough. It was never hot enough.

No matter how hard Xiu scrubbed her skin, no matter how red and raw it came out after she was finished, she never felt clean. Her scales would shine so brightly one might get blinded from them, but all she could see was crimson staining her palms, spreading across the pearlescent sheen of her scales, tangling her hair with blood and sweat, drenched over her lips from busted lips and flesh caught beneath her fingernails.

When she was walking back to her quarters, she had caught a glimpse of the man her father was sending to the governor. She knew of him; a samurai fallen from grace, forced into service for so many years that she wondered if he remembered his life before being forced to fight for anyone he was passed on to. His eyes were always somewhere far away, straight ahead, more machine than man. She wanted to talk to him, wanted to touch him, wanted to tell him that we are just the same, you and me, please, we don’t have to be alone here.

Kage had been knocking on her door all night, and she refused to answer. She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want any of the substances he had to offer, didn’t want the fuck he was looking for while she was vulnerable. Being vulnerable around Kage was always a dangerous game. For someone who claimed to be in love with her, he loved to put her in a compromising situation. No-- she wanted to stay in this bathtub that was turning lukewarm and put her head beneath water until she could fathom a world outside of the yakuza, outside of being beneath the thumb of her father, until she could see a world where she wasn’t born to destroy but to thrive, where the things she touched turned beautiful rather than rotten and broken.

“Please,” the governor breathed. “Please, don’t kill me.”

Xiu was silent. The three children that had been at play in the garden were laughing, kicking a ball and gathering their fine silks to make sure they didn’t trip over the hem. The governor had been sitting on a stone bench as he watched, smiling, paperwork set to the side to observe his trio of his pride and joy. Two boys; the youngest was a girl with sleek dark hair pulled into pigtails, blunt bangs across her forehead. Just like Xiu’s mother had done hers when she was the little girl’s age. There was a twinge in her chest.

She was pulling her knife away from the man’s neck when the eldest boy looked up at her. His eyes widened in surprise and fear and his lips formed in an ��O,’ prepared to cry out. She lifted a hand and put her index finger to her lips, shook her her head, and then, just as silently as she had come, she was gone back into the shadows from whence she had come. It was rare for her to feel so sick -- if sick at all -- when she was about to do a job. But that son’s gaze... It had gotten to her. It had reached a place so deeply that she had forgotten that place still existed within her. It had called some sort of humanity back.

Any punishment she had to endure when she arrived back in Doma would be worth saving the little family who had already lost everything but each other.

(( quick mention: @myterribleboysffxiv! ))

#writing #ffxiv stories #ffxiv writing #ffxiv rp #mateus rp #doman rp #doman #im still a little rusty and new to writing xiu pls dont hate me if this isnt great

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crowkingwrites · 7 years ago

Text

War Creatures (Ch.9)

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Summary: In a crossover of the Nine Realms and Westeros, you find yourself in the dawn of a rebellion. Odin, Lord of Pyke, has made alliances with your family, House Grover of Highgarden. Your father’s army will join Odin’s army to overthrow the King and take the Iron Throne. There is just one cost to this alliance.You must marry the dark, young prince Loki.In a world where Kings do as they wish, where war is an oncoming storm, and peace is nothing but a dream, you are lost but brave. Loki is more powerful than he seems, and love will grow from the flames of war.

Words: 2638

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108748/chapters/26002806

:Lord Garth’s POV:

The archers were set. Their eyes set on the moving targets. They waited for their signal to start shooting. Ser Brandon watched the enemy arrive at the edge of the maze. There were limited entrances, so they started to struggle to get all of their forces inside the maze.

“Knock!” Ser Brandon shouted across the ramparts. The archers aimed their arrows high. “Loose! Arrow flew high into an arc and rained down upon the two loyalist houses of Vindici. Several of their men were struck in their shoulders or heads. They fell over dead, but it was only just beginning. More men sprinted into the maze. Each of them going in different directions.

Lord Garth walked the ramparts to and fro. He watched his archers shoot and aim in perfect form. A guard called out to him.

“My lord, Ser Petra sent me here to inform you that he is with the royal family. They are safe and sound.”

“Thank you,” Lord Garth nodded. “Did you hear that, Loki?”

“Yes my lord,” a wave of relief washed over Loki. Cecelia was safe. Next to him, he heard sprinting footsteps. Loki turned his head to see Fandral grabbing him by his shoulders.

“Cecelia. Cecelia is in the maze,” Fandral said, out of breath. Loki knitted his eyebrows and shook his head.

“What are you talking about, Fandral? A soldier just informed me that Cecelia is safe with Ser Petra.” Fandral shook his head.

“After she ran off, no one could find her. Not a single soldier. Someone told Elise that she never met with her family or anyone. Elise said she went into the maze, and Elise went after her. Both of them are in the maze, Loki! They’re in danger!”

Lord Garth never has shown any sign of fear to his soldiers. His father taught him to be brave in the face of adversity. He had no fear in his first battle. He had no fear sitting on the throne of Highgarden for the first time. He was prepared for these things. The only time he has ever shown fear to anyone was in front of Magnolia, his wife, when Cecelia was born.

And the second time was now. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

“What do you mean she ran off? Why would she run off?” he asked. Loki knitted his eyebrows together.

“My lord, we had a fight,” Loki exhaled. “You had a fight? What did you do? What did you say?” the questions poured out of him. His nostrils flared. “Why is my little girl down there?”

“My lord, it was all a misunderstanding,” Fandral stepped in between them. Lord Garth didn’t realize he was moving towards Loki until he stopped. He turned to another elite knight.

“You,” he pointed at him. “Get an elite team of your best down to the maze. Find Cecelia. She’s in sanctuary. Get her. Bring her to safety now,” Lord Garth ordered. The knight nodded his head, and ran off the ramparts, barking orders at two other knight to follow him.

“My lord—

“Don’t you start with me, Loki,” he said lowly. “You promised me. You promised to keep her away from danger like this. Do not start.”

“Let me find her. I can bring her to safety. Please,” Loki pleaded. “She’s my wife. Let me bear this burden.” Lord Garth stood in silence, not acknowledging Loki’s request. “Right, Fandral, we need to leave now.”

Loki and Fandral left the ramparts at a quick pace. Lord Garth looked to the sky, evening clouds rolled in. It wasn’t going to rain, but he hoped it would. Rain slowed down soldiers. Rain gave them time. Lord Garth hoped his men would make it to her in time.

:Elise’s POV:

The wind she created made the hem of her dress fly into the air. Each step was a beat of a war drum. Her war drum. Her family had served the women of House Gardener. They had protected them during war. They hid them from their abusive and ill-mannered men. They offered counsel and held them and fed them and bathed them.

Elise would not let hundreds of years of family tradition and duty slip through her fingers now.

She knew the path. She took the exact amount of rights and lefts until she heard a soft sobbing. Elise stepped through the hidden archway. She watched her lady cry into her hands. Elise walked over to her carefully and hugged her.

“Elise?!” she exclaimed.

“Hush, my lady,” Elise held onto her. Her hands wrapped around Cecelia tightly. “I got you. I got you.” Cecelia continued to sob.

“What do we do? We’re stuck here,” Cecelia said, peeking through Elise’s arms. Elise looked to the archway and heard men shouting from the castle and the maze.

“I don’t know,” Elise told her. She wouldn’t lie to her own lady. They could go back to the castle, but Elise couldn’t guarantee Cecelia’s safety. They could stay here and hide, but the enemy could find them. They had no weapons. They did not know where the enemy was. Elise tried to keep calm and formulate a plan in her head before it was too late.

:Loki’s POV:

“Sanctuary? What did that mean?” I said, running through the castle.

“Elise told me it’s a hidden part of the maze. Lord Garth’s mother built it there first as a place of solace away from other nobles. She gave it to Cecelia. She invited you there, remember?”

“Please don’t make me feel guilty now,” I pleaded with Fandral.

“What do you suggest then? How are we getting to her?” we arrived at the same tea spot where our fight was. Food fell over. Tea was all over the floor. Cecelia’s chair was still far away from the table.

“We can’t cut through the maze. Behind the plants and bushes is an actual wall. House Gardener is smarter than most people think,” I tried to stay calm. Fandral kept running his ahdns through his hair.

“There’s no way we can find them in that maze, Loki,” Fandral’s eyes looked into mine. “You need to face reality and let the elite soldiers find her. That’s our only hope.” I looked at the journal laying on the ground.

“No, it’s not,” I picked up the journal and started to walk towards the front of the castle again.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I have an idea,” I lit the journal on fire with my hand. It felt extremely warm, but then it fizzled into one singular light. The small orange flame gave me a direction of which way to go.

“Magic. I should’ve known,” Fandral commented. I did not stop at the maze entrance; we ran straight into it. The orange flame burned right and then left. It twisted and turned to guide me and Fandral where the girls are.

“I’m coming, Cecelia,” I muttered to myself, racing through the maze. Another set of arrows were launched into the air, and rained down towards the east entrance.

:Elite Team’s POV:

Two arrows struck a Karvindici. One in his head, the other in his chest. He fell to the ground bleeding. Soldiers ran over him. They had no time to mourn the dead now.

They moved further into the maze. When they thought they were making progress, they found dead ends. This would frustrated them even more. One soldier ran into the maze wall with his sword. He ended up knocking himself unconscious. Lord Garth’s elite team went into the maze. They moved quickly and silently. None of them touched the branches hanging from the sides or tripped on the entangling vines on the ground. They knew this maze. They were ordered the run the entire thing each morning.

“Sanctuary is our first priority,” the alpha ordered. “We must get to Lady Cecelia first before they do which I doubt they will.”

Another set of arrows rained over them and into the maze.

“They’re getting closer,” the beta replied, looking at the sky. “The arch of the arrows wasn’t that high this time. They’re aiming lower. Closer.”

“We’ll be fine,” the alpha said. “Get word to the higher parts that we’re going to need more men soon. They’re slowly figuring out the maze.” The beta left the alpha and the rest of the team. Alpha ordered half his team to find Sanctuary, and the other half with him to cut down the enemy.

They made sure to move fast, but stealthily. Time was not on their side. One eager team member moved ahead of the alpha. He turned left and grunted loudly. The alpha ran towards his team member and saw him fighting an enemy soldier.

The two clashed their swords. The metal rang in the air, but not to any beat. It rang and rang until one of them was tired. The team member noted his opponent’s exhaustion and struck his sword through the soldier’s underbelly. The enemy soldier fell over, grunting loudly.

“Fucking traitors,” he screamed his last words. The enemy soldier’s head dropped.

“There’s more of them,” the alpha said. “He can’t be the only one to reach this far. They’re coming from the eastern entrance.” They moved along the walls, turning right and left when they needed to.

Another set of enemy soldiers found them and charged at them. The alpha swung his sword first, knocking down and killing the first one. The second and third were easy. He raised his shield to block the second’s blow and struck the third through his neck. He then used the shield to knock the second soldier into the wall. The second soldier’s eyes flickered and his body slid down the wall. Blood trailing a path to the ground.

This was good. This was very good. Alpha couldn’t get cocky now, no, not now. His team continued to find groups of enemy soldiers and knocking them down, one by one. Group by group. They could win this.

:Loki’s POV:

The journal’s flame flickered left, then right, then left two more times. I erratically followed it. I had to get to her. I felt close.

I heard shrieking ringing through the air. I felt my heart stop.

“Elise!” Fandral ran past me and took a sharp right. When I took the same turn, I watched three Karvindici soldiers got through an archway. I threw my journal and stabbed the last one in the back.

“Fucking shit!” he shouted. I dug my dagger deeper into his back. I felt him bleeding onto my hand. Red stained the metal on my dagger. His body started to fall, and I took my dagger out and slit his throat as quickly as I could to finish him.

The second Karvindici had his hand around Cecelia’s wrist. I took that same dagger and stabbed his arm. He let go of her while I used the second dagger to stab his cheek. More red stained the daggers. I watched him fall to the ground and his eyes roll back. Lifeless. Serves him right.

Fandral took care of the third soldier. His armor was scratched, but he bled from his back. Fandral rushed to Elise, and he held her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m here,” he said to her, brushing her hair back. Fandral’s arm was bleeding, but he swallowed the pain.

I looked to Cecelia, and she looked at me like I was still some monster to her.

:Lia’s POV:

He stood before me. His daggers were stained with blood. Not a single scratch on him. His hair was loose around his gold and green armor. His cape was torn. His eyes were wild. His green eyes looked into mine.

I should be kissing him.

He just saved my life from the monsters who want to kill my family, but he was a monster. He hurt me. He used magic to hurt me. I didn’t realize my body was moving backwards and away from him. I stopped.

“Cecelia, are you alright?” He lowered himself to my level. His arms reached out to me. I nodded my head quickly.

“Yes,” I squeaked. “Loki, I—

“Shhh,” he quietly said. “Come here. Let’s get you back to the castle.”

“No,” I said. “Not with you.”

“Cecelia, please, not now.”

“How am I supposed to trust you?” I squeaked out. I felt the hot tears come down my face again. Elise walked out of Fandral’s arms and held me close again.

“My lady, we need to get out of here now,” she pleaded. She was right. I couldn’t trust him, but I had no choice.

“Cecelia, please,” Loki pleaded again. His eyes bore into mine. “You can trust me. I will stay with you the entire time. Please.” He held his hand out to me. I took it begrudgingly. Elise and I led the way back to the front entrance of the castle before another set of arrows rained down in the maze.

Loki let go of my hand and I felt relief wash over me. His hand went to the small of my back and guided me all the way inside and onto the second floor.

“Fandral, take them to Ser Petra,” he ordered. I scoffed at him. “What?”

“You just promised me you would stay at my side,” I called him out. “Breaking promises already?” Loki only stared at me. The light showed the bags under his eyes, the redness of his eyes, and the shadow of a beard growing on him. He rolled his eyes and walked off, not saying a single word to me.

:Lord Garth’s POV:

The archers were hitting them. Lord Garth watched with pride as more and more enemy soldiers fell to their deaths. He just sent more foot soldiers to surprise them inside the maze. He watched one team bring hell upon a set of enemy soldiers who almost made it to the front gates.

His plan was working.

“My lord,” an elite soldier reported to him. “There are more casualties on the north east and south east entrances. Some of the enemy soldiers have retreated. Well, at least the ones who made it out of the maze.”

“Excellent, thank you,” he said.

“Your daughter made it inside as well.” Lord Garth put his hands on the stones of the castle. He exhaled a great sigh.

“Thank you, give my gratitude and appreciation to the alpha team.”

“No, my lord, it was Loki. He found her and brought her inside. Cecelia and her handmaiden are both with Ser Petra, unharmed and safe.” Lord Garth turned his head to see Loki joining him back on the ramparts.

Loki nodded his way, but Lord Garth could not nod back. It was his fault that his daughter ran off into the maze in the first place. After Loki had promised to keep his daughter from harm, he ruined it. Maybe Lord Odin and Lady Frigga were wrong. Maybe the rumors were true. Maybe he was the monster he had heard about all long.

Lord Garth looked away from Loki and returned his focus to the battle. He watched enemy soldiers retreating and more of them dying at the hands of his men. Soon, the yelling and guttural war sounds from the Karvindici House all but stopped.

Their soldiers lay dead and bleeding in the narrow ends of the maze. Some of them took their last breath, others watched the stars in the sky as their whole world went black.

“Seize fire!” lord Garth barked at Ser Brandon.

“Seize fire!” Ser Brandon ordered the others. Silence fell over Highgraden for a few moments. No screaming. No taunting. Just a settling silence.

“Ser Brandon, send down scouts to the maze,” Lord Garth ordered. “I think we may have won.”

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Angst #arranged marriage au #marvel/ game of thrones crossover #loki x reader #loki/reader #loki fanfiction

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smolpocketmonstercoffee · 7 years ago

Text

HoA 01

H E A R T _ O F _ A R S O N

Ulfric has faced many years since the Great War but there is a face that has hung in silence in his mind since then. All those years later, finding that face again would draw new memories to be made in the wake of the war he waged against the claws of the Empire. And the matter of other claws that would sink into the very flesh of Skyrim itself brought its own problems, along with a mysterious stranger. The path of the future was not certain. But the fresh return of that face in his mind brought questions. Ones he felt needed to be answered.

START, NEXT

TW: N/A

ONE

There was no response from Balgruuf as to Ulfric’s call for rebellion against the Empire, but as far as his sources had informed him, the Jarl of Whiterun had also given no response to the opposing Imperials either.

The center of Skyrim was a neutral territory for now.

And without Whiterun picking allies, both sides were evenly matched in the number of holds which joined their claim, the Imperials holding power with their dirty Septims over the West, and Ulfric had the loyalty and honor of the people in the East. The end result of the war likely hung in the balance with whoever ended up claiming Whiterun.

Ulfric just hoped that the rival of his youth would make the right choice.

As much as he personally did not care for the man, he would prefer to have Balgruuf as an ally rather than an enemy.

He was a fierce fighter and a smart man.

Ulfric needed all the fierce fighters and smart men that he could.

And in the morning, Ulfric would be taking a small troop of his soldiers to retake Fort Amol from a nest of mages that had infested there. Once that was done, they would be en route to visit Darkwater Crossing, a mining settlement which was responsible for quite a bit of corundum ore that went into making the steel for their swords and armor. He had received a message from the acting leaders of the settlement, husband-and-wife duo Verner and Annekke, that there had been an unusually high number of travelers around Darkwater lately. It had been Galmar’s suggestion to send out a few soldiers that way to check it out, but if Ulfric and his men were going to be so close to the settlement because of Fort Amol, it would be an insult to his people to not stop there to show his concern in person.

Ulfric had come to notice that when a leader displays open care about the worries of his people, those very people are more willing to fight for that leader.

But in the depths of dreams, he was no leader.

He was a young man in shackles again.

Prisoner to the Thalmor.

Ulfric couldn’t remember how many times his mind dragged him back to that awful place, relived those horrible memories.

It was in the cage of his own mind that he was forced to remember that not only was Elenwen a skilled interrogator, a skilled torturer, she was also a skilled healer. She knew her way around methods to break a man’s mind, to drive him to the point of giving up entirely, willing himself to die. It was then, and often only then, where the cruelly of ‘kindness’ as she called it was shown.

And she would heal what she had fought to damage.

Ulfric remembered that sometime she would bring over the young Altmer male who was assigned to the task of writing down every word that spilled from his lips and tell him, in a tone that was sickeningly sweet, “Come, I think you should practice.”

That face that flinched every time Elenwen ripped sounds of pain from his lips only grew focused, farther from afraid and closer to calm in those moments where Elenwen encouraged him to develop his skill in restoration magic.

Ulfric remembered the careful way that the Altmer male would avoid looking Ulfric in the face.

He remembered the great amount of caution that the hands which belonged to that face took to not touch the Nord’s skin when that golden skin would draw light into the shadows of the interrogation hall.

He remembered the way those hands shook.

And he remembered that he thought that Altmer boy looked only a handful of years older than himself.

Young.

The Aldmeri Dominion were training their own in the means of cruelty from a young age.

Ulfric also remembered how well that Altmer improved his restoration magic with Ulfric to practice on.

Ulfric tasted blood in his mouth, sobs too weak to shake his body any more as tears streamed down his cheeks. Ulfric might have felt pity if he had seen his own state on another man, but this hyperawareness of himself only filled him with shame.

Elenwen stepped back, admiring her handiwork before she tilted her head faintly to the side in consideration. And then she gazed back to her aid.

“Come.”

He heard the shift of a chair, and the soft sound of Thalmor boots across the dirty floor of the interrogation chamber.

Elenwen stepped further out of the little cell, leaning against the frame of the door to observe as the male came to stand before him and very quietly, deliberately slowly, he tugged off his gloves.

From his position, Ulfric had a good view of those hands.

The movements of this man were recognizably different from Elenwen.

She was efficient but she did not take any care for caution in front of a prisoner who had been in her custody for an untold amount of time.

That face though…

It was like he was approaching a trapped animal, not with the intention to attack it, but rather with the intention to spring the trap loose.

And quietly, those golden hands reached out to him, the owner of those hands crouching so he could focus his attention more. So close that he could almost feel the warmth of his hands, all without even touching.

And then, the long thin fingers that belonged to that face glowed golden over weeping wounds and broken muscle and pained bone.

And for a moment, Ulfric felt bliss.

Only for a moment before the ingrained knowledge of what was still going to happen the next day settled back into his thoughts and he hated Elenwen and her aid even more.

The glow never disappeared as those hands slowly moved from one wounded area to another.

The cords of a lute quietly tilted into his mind.

A shallow awareness that this was not real.

“Lady Elenwen,” a voice spoke up.

This was a memory.

The interrogator’s attention was drawn away.

“What is it?”

The words but not the voice itself came to his mind.

Sorrow reigns

Over fields of red…

Spirits pace

Through the shadows cast by their graves…

This was not real.

This was a dream.

The Altmer whose hands glowed glanced over his shoulder quickly, and when he turned back, Ulfric saw fiction as the expression turned serious with effort and those hands moved to hover over his arms, drawing strength into them and forcing the acceleration of wounds at his wrists that had mostly gone ignored in favor of the shackles’ sting.

Darkness strives to blind the strong

But Faith will guide our swords…

Loyal hearts we’ll stand as one

And fight with shields of Hope…

This was not real.

This was a dream.

That face checked over his shoulder again before drawing his hand away from Ulfric’s skin.

Only briefly.

And the splintering sensation in his skull, from physical pain—no—phantom pain, psychological agony, and shameful sorrow was swept away like wind to a loose shred of paper.

It took that pain and tossed it to the sky like a bird being released from the hands that held it captive.

And he heard that voice, the one that he remembered belonged to that face, singing the last verse.

These are days and nights of venom and blood…

Heroes will rise as the anchors fall…

Brave the strife, reclaim every soul

That belongs to the Beauty of Dawn…

And finally, the eyes that belonged to that face, eyes he had only noticed in the event of passing them on the streets of Solitude, met his.

They were the color of amber.

Shades between the color of gold ore and the warm red veins of heat between the dark soot of coal.

He remembered once finding a rock near the riverbed as a child that was that exact color.

“Wake up, Ulfric.”

It was Galmar’s voice that made his eyes open to the contents of his room, the sheets beneath him soaked with sweat just the same as his pillow was soaked with tears.

Sometime during the night, the soft dyed blanket had been lost to the floor.

The gruff voice of his housecarl reached him, carrying the words, “Welcome to the world of the wakeful, friend, glad to have you back.”

Ulfric sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing one eye with the heel of one hand as the other rested on his long-time friend.

“Are the men ready?”

Galmar huffed.

“You are the one who needs to get ready. Break your fast. If they are not ready by the time you are prepared to set out, there will be others more willing to take their place.”

Ulfric knew these words, repeated to him in the twilight of the days when he had nightmares and Galmar found it better to wake him early than let him suffer in the confines of his mind any longer.

“Thank you, friend.”

Galmar was not a man who smiled kindly with his mouth, but the slight nod he gave and the small softening of his eyes was the closest second to the expression, all before he turned to lend Ulfric his privacy.

By the time Ulfric was composed and properly arranged to make himself public, stepping through the doorway of his wing and into the war room, he could smell hot oats and seared pork.

What he could not smell, as he sat down, was the soft-boiled eggs and the buttered bread.

It was a good breakfast to have for any day, but he would be among his men, soldiers who did not have the same opportunities to eat as well as he could, and as his appetite always was after nights full of uneasy dreams, he ate lightly.

His stomach would thank him for the decision after he had been on horseback for a handful of minutes.

The high-sun meal would be among the men and women who looked up to him, and they would eat as equals.

And when Ulfric returned to Windhelm in the evening, he would give the men the coin to eat a well and hearty supper and he too would eat a well and hearty supper in the main hall of the Palace of the Kings.

When Ulfric stood from the table, his body at ease with the warm comfort of food in his belly, Galmar gave him a nod and together, the two war veterans stepped outside of the Palace and through the city to the stables where his men were gathered already, some of the newer soldiers among the lot almost visibly buzzing with energy at the thought that they would be accompanying Ulfric Stormcloak himself on an adventure to retake the Fort of Eastmarch.

The men who had already done such assignments before were pleased with themselves that they could repeat such events.

Galmar gave him a few words of advice, as a more seasoned soldier to a fellow, as he mounted his horse.

And with a sharp squeeze of his heels, Ulfric took his men away from the capital of Windhelm to seize Stormcloak territory from the selfish rabble who preferred magic to the strength of one’s sword arm.

With the men that he had, the nest of mages were culled with little effort and ultimately among the dead, only an unfortunate few were among the numbers of the men and women in his hold’s armor.

They cared for their dead and wounded and then they ate their lunch.

Twelve men and women who were not assigned to remain at the fort but rather return to Windhelm with him accompanied him on the south road towards Darkwater Crossing.

It was on that road when the sound of an arrow zipped through the air and sank into the throat of Ulfric’s horse, making the beast throw him off in its panic and its pain, and they found themselves surrounded by Imperial soldiers and for every one of his men, there was at least five who fought against him.

He had too many good soldiers with him.

And he had already lost more than he wanted to lose earlier at Fort Amol.

And Ulfric Stormcloak, the leader of the rebellion, ordered his guards to stand down.

Collected among them was a man who was caught trying to steal an Imperial horse shortly before the ambush.

They were all bound, and with the Imperials’ wise fear in Ulfric’s ancient power of the Voice, he was gagged.

Then, they were loaded up in the carts.

Ulfric honestly couldn’t imagine that the Imperials would bother taking him and his guard all the way to Cyrodiil, parade them in front of the Emperor like some prized dogs, but he could believe that General Tullius might hold the desire to cull the rebellion quietly.

Executing the head of the rebellion away from the eyes of the bulk of his forces and later presenting his very head would scream out the loudest, ‘look. Look at what has come of the man who dared to rebel. Look at what will happen to you if you dare to do the same.’

Cowards.

And he turned out to be right as he saw the carts approach the gates of Helgen, a known Imperial fort in Falkreath.

He observed the Thalmor by the gate, the high voice that he easily recognized as Elenwen’s demanding to Tullius custody of the prisoners, thinking that citing the White-Gold Concordat as reason enough.

Tullius wasn’t about to allow a man of such importance as Ulfric Stormcloak to slip through his fingers though.

And as the carts rolled through the town, he saw gold, gleaming elven armor, two Thalmor soldiers, half-dragging, half-pushing a prisoner of their own.

He would have assumed it was a local merchant by the handsome quality of his clothes, caught doing something shameful enough to warrant being dragged to Helgen, but then he caught sight of the skin of the man as the cart passed, the color of gold showing through the rips in his clothes made by previous rough handling at the hands of his captors.

This man was an Altmer.

What had an Altmer done to warrant such attention from the Thalmor themselves?

And as the carts came to a halt and everyone stepped out, the approaching guards with their prisoner came to join them.

And Ulfric saw the Mer’s face.

That face.

It was that face.

The face of Elenwen’s aid.

The face of that Mer singing in Solitude.

The face of this prisoner.

#Heart Of Arson #HoA #Ulfric Stormcloak #Altmer OC #Elenwen #Skyrim

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